''Hah , we got all the transport and storage capacity you would wish for,
but personally , instead of the majority rule , I feel more for a veto type rule Daniels..''
Pete sits back and puts his feet on the table , knocking over the holo projector (again)
Daniels : A veto type rule? And that would be productive in what way? The way I see it that will be awfully counter productive. Also, have we thought about certain sections within the organization? For instance, I don't like the idea of discussing or debating about nomad related things, seeing that is our specialization. For that reason we won't interfere with the way the ToP go about their business. We could see that as limited independence within the alliance.
'Personally I'd favour a majority vote. That way, if one of us should for any reason see fit to act in a selfish manner the other two might still pass plans of action.'
'Personally I don't ... so shall we end negotiations here admiral ?'
A warning red light flashes on above Petes head, sensors detecting the ignition of an unknown source. Two gun-like devices fold from corners of the room and spray an accurate deluge of foam at the cigar, and unintentionaly, Petes face.
Scarlet, watching this with amusement raises an eyebrow and smiles faintly. "If you would like to withdraw from these negotiations, and have your organisation gain nothing and lose one of the best offers you'll likely get in several lifetimes, please, feel free to go."
As the "guns" unfolded and sprayed the foam towards Pete Daniels quickly refrained from lighting one of his own cigars now that he had seen the policy upon the Carrier.
Daniels : Again, I have to say I favor the majority vote against a veto type vote for the reason the Admiral points out. Veto's tend to be misused, now I'm not saying any of us will misuse it, but it tends to happen.
Pete's covered in foam , and seems to get agitated
“Y'all peoples don't seem to understand where I'm coming from.
A majority vote thing is for sissies and wimps , and I ain't neither!
If we all want a equal say in the future of Kansas , we all should get the right to say no.
They can take our rights , our Smudge , our drinks and our cigars, but they can never take
OUR FREEDOM!!!!”
The strange colours of Kansas filled his cockpit view as his old Eagle starfighter made its way to the large carrier named The Scarlet Pride. He smiled to himself, recalling when their two groups had first met, an "explosive" acquaintance with much promise.
Two ships lined a row of windows with many tiny specs visible inside. He scowled as he realized he was already late. He hated being late. Sadly, this was out of his hands. Dusting off the control panel in front of him, he activated the radio and hailed the carrier.
"Scarlet Pride, this is Jonathan Cook, here on behalf of the man known to you as Uncle Pete. My... dear... uncle is needed back at the Barge to maintain order, and as such I'm here to replace his place at the negotiations. Requesting permission to land"
On board the Pride, an officer on the Cons tower shrugs to his junior before replying to the aproaching craft.
"This is the Scarlet Pride to Jonathon Cook, you are cleared to land in Hanger two, there will be a security team to check your ship. Relinquish any weaponry or offensive items to the duty officer."
In the hanger a squad of marines is seated on the wing of a nearby Wasupu, thier rifles ready and leaning between thier legs, another, slightly more ornately dressed squad awaits Mister Cooks arival, to lead him to the conference room.
As the Eagle landed in Hangar 2, Jonathan rearranged his tie and suit, neatly stacking the many papers strewn all over the flight panel into his briefcase, finishing his work just before his ship's auto-pilot made its way down. Getting out of the starfighter, he eyed the men with rifles carefully before recognizing the second group of men in front of him.
The usual greetings. A handshake, a nod, a carefully placed joke to break the ice. He handed his personal handgun when asked, then following the welcome wagon through a series of corridors. He couldn't help but feel nostalgic as he walked to the conference room. It had been some time...
Muffled, bustling noise filled his ears as he approached a large metal door with some writing on it. He didn't read it. Bypassing the men escorting him, Jonathan opened the door wide in front of him, his first sight being his Uncle half raised in his chair, wine bottle in one hand, raising his pants with the other, a large assortment of annoyed-looking people staring directly at the new arrival.
Jonathan sighed. It really HAD been some time...